


Sensation and Stimulation

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>itty-bitty prompt: hartwin's first time doing light bondage, with bonus point if you make them be absolute dorks about it~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensation and Stimulation

**Author's Note:**

> ((DISCLAIMER: I know next to nothing about the intimate details of bondage, so if I get anything wrong call me out on it immediately and I’ll change it.))

There’s never a good time to bring something like this up, Harry thinks, sat in his office. His eyes scan over the headlines of the newspaper without really reading them, thoughts focused more internally. 

Eggsy saunters in, all damp hair and glistening skin from the shower he’s just taken. He collapses into the free seat without waiting for any sort of an invitation, something he hasn’t asked for in Harry’s house for quite some time. “So we gonna ruin this shower I just took or what?” he asks, cutting right to the point. 

Harry side-eyes him for a moment, unable to keep a fond smile from his lips as he notes Eggsy hasn’t bothered to put anything more than a towel back on. Still, that isn’t enough to entirely dispel his nerves and he clears his throat. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you would like to try something a little different tonight,” he begins, years of training allowing him to keep most of the hesitation out of his voice. 

But Eggsy isn’t just some target who only gets to see the front Harry’s putting up; he knows him too well for that. “New? You mean we ain’t done everythin’ yet?” he asks, leaning forwards slightly, enough so that the towel shifts just a little bit lower on his hips. 

Snorting, Harry shakes his head. “My dear boy, we’ve hardly touched the surface.” 

Eggsy’s face splits into a broad grin and he surges to his feet, reaching out to grab Harry’s wrist with both hands and hauling him out of the chair. “Then I don’t see what we’re sittin’ around here for. C’mon then, Harry, before I get old too,” he adds with a cheeky wink, turning to lead him up the stairs. He keeps one hand wrapped in Harry’s. 

One of Harry’s eyebrows quirks upwards and the hand not currently secured in Eggsy’s grasp reaches out to give his barely covered arse a slightly-more-than-playful swat. 

Eggsy jumps a bit in surprise, whipping his head around to glance at Harry who only gives him the most innocent look he can muster. “Smug bastard,” he mutters, the smile ruining any attempt to be serious. 

By the time they actually make it to their bedroom, Harry is much more relaxed than he was before, the ball of nerves all but dissolved as the door swings shut behind them. 

Eggsy stops just a couple steps into the room, whirling around to plaster himself against Harry, crowding him back against the door. 

Harry’s arms fold around him automatically, hands tracing patterns up and down the bare skin of his back as their lips collide, all tongue and teeth and spit. 

Eggsy arches his back, hips thrusting forward to grind against Harry’s as he tilts his head back so he can look up at him. He’s found his old skills in gymnastics to be of value multiple times since he started dating Harry. “What was it you had in mind?” he purrs, fingers worming their way into Harry’s trousers and brushing over his cock. 

“An unusual experience of sensory stimulation,” Harry says slowly, “along with the stimulation of certain other parts of you.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Harry, I love you, but you’re gonna have to explain what the fuck that means.” 

Chuckling warmly, Harry brings his hand up to cradle Eggsy’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over his cheekbone. Dipping his head, he gives him a brief, chaste kiss. “I believe you might recognize it better as bondage,” he ventures, the small ball of nerves surging back again. 

Eggsy pulls back a bit, his fingers falling out of the waistband of Harry’s trousers. His eyes flick over the older man’s face searchingly, as if checking to make sure he’s not kidding. 

As the silence stretches between them, Harry’s heart falls. He’s buggered it all now, he thinks, ruined the one relationship he’s ever managed to build and all because he couldn’t be content with what Eggsy already gave him. 

Then Eggsy shrugs and wanders almost lazily over to the bed. “Yeah, alright.” He topples back onto the mattress, stretching out luxuriously. 

Harry’s left pressed against the doorway, blinking in a stunned silence. 

Once he becomes aware that Harry is right where he left him, Eggsy props himself up on his elbows, head cocked curiously to one side. “You okay, Harry?” he asks, concern starting to furrow his brow.

Eggsy’s voice seems to break whatever spell has frozen him in place and he nods once. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he assures him. 

Eggsy lets himself slump back onto the plush mattress, attempting to wriggle out of his shirt and hoodie without actually lifting back up off the bed. “Then get over here and give me ‘unusual experience of sensory stimulation’ or whatever the hell you called it,” he challenges. 

A smile equal parts relief and fondness flits over Harry’s lips and he walks over to the walk-in closet. He disappears inside, emerging to find Eggsy mostly undressed and lounging on the bed, hand running lazily up his cock. “Stop,” Harry says immediately, and Eggsy stills, glancing over at him. 

He takes one look at the silken ropes and the blindfold in his hand (and the feather, why the hell does Harry need a feather?) and releases himself, crossing his wrists over each other and stretching his arms above his head. “This how you want me?” he asks.

“Perfect, darling,” Harry assures him with a nod, sorting out the ropes. He winds one around Eggsy’s wrists, binding them together and securing it to the headboard, checking to ensure he can’t slip out of them too easily. He runs his hands down Eggsy’s leg, tugging his right away from his left and securing ropes around each of his ankles which he ties around two of the bedposts. He pauses, blindfold in hand, looking down at Eggsy seriously. “If you ever at any time need me to stop, just say Oxfords.” 

“Not brogues?” Eggsy teases, saucy half-smile in place. 

Harry’s stern glance of reproach melts that away. “I’m serious, Eggsy. What are you supposed to say if you want me to stop?”

“Oxfords,” Eggsy repeats dutifully, a bit more solemn this time. 

With a nod of satisfaction, Harry leans in to put the blindfold on, settling it over his eyes. “Can you see anything?” 

Sight taken from him, Eggsy’s other sense sharpen immediately. Harry’s voice sounds deeper and richer than ever, and the soft silk wrapped around his limbs feels like heaven. “No, can’t see anythin’,” he confirms, eyes wide open even though all he can see is black. 

For a moment everything goes silent and Eggsy begins to wonder if Harry’s left the room for some reason, just left him tied up. “Harry, what-” he begins, stopping at the light touch of something along the side of his ribs. He sucks in a breath as it traces a line down his side, moving slowly around, following the curve of his hip, coming to a rest right underneath his belly button. The image of the feather suddenly flashes in his mind and he squirms slightly as the softness of it is replaced by the even softer touch of Harry’s lips. Then the feather is back on his skin, running a path up his chest this time, splitting off the right as it reaches his collarbone. It skims across his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He never knew he could feel anything so intimately and he bites his bottom lip to keep from whimpering.  

He does whine when it leaves him completely, but it gets cut off at the sensation of Harry’s callous-roughened fingers circling around his nipples. All it takes is one quick flick of his thumb for them to harden into tiny pink rocks and when Harry’s hot, damp tongue licks over them he moans involuntarily. Sharp darts of pleasure spike through him at every stroke and soon he’s panting, little whines of need slipping out as his cock hardens. 

And when Harry’s hand wraps around his shaft he thinks this could be considered a religious experience. His body has become a temple and Harry is his most avid worshiper, praising him with the tug of his fingers on his skin, the wet heat of his mouth around the head of his cock, the small hums of pleasure neither of them can (or want to) keep back. 

“Harry,” he breathes out, his own prayer. Desire is curling up in his gut and it screams its disappointment when the comforting heat and weight of Harry disappears from above him. His ears can pick up promising sounds of a drawer being opened and the crinkle of foil packaging. His hips buck of their own volition when he feels Harry’s finger teasing at his entrance, spreading lube around liberally. The cool liquid and the slight twinges of pleasure send shudders through him and he strains at the ropes. It’s nothing compared to the actual sensation of Harry’s finger slipping inside, working him open. 

Two fingers, three, and Eggsy’s a quivering, sweating mess, babbling inanely about “fuck me, Harry, please, wanna feel you, so good, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Harry’s chuckle is dark and rich and warm and something Eggsy gets so lost in that he gasps when he feels the head of Harry’s cock at his entrance. The older man moves tortuously slowly, giving Eggsy time to adjust. 

There’s a bit of pain, yes, a bit of discomfort as Harry bottoms out in him, but the wave of pleasure is so overwhelming that Eggsy barely even notices, just wants more. “Move,” he breathes out. “Please.” 

Harry complies, pulling out until only the head of his cock is still inside Eggsy before sliding back in. He fucks him long and slow, savoring every gasp and moan and whimper Eggsy gives him. He looks exquisite, hair framing his face, tousled locks splayed out on the pillow around him, every muscle taut, straining for release. 

He leans down to kiss Eggsy, the younger man’s cock brushing against his stomach. 

That’s all Eggsy needs, both new points of contact stirring up extra bolts of pleasure that shoot straight through him. He comes with a cry, clenching around Harry, whose thrusts have lost their regularity. 

It doesn’t take much longer before Harry is spilling inside him, forehead bent, resting on Eggsy’s chest. 

Eggsy can hear Harry gasping for breath even over the sound of his own lungs straining to pull in more air. When Harry’s cock slips out of him he feels so empty it almost hurts until the blindfold is removed and his world expands again. The dim light emanating from around the edges of the window curtain enough to make him squint, he waits patiently for Harry to untie him, rubbing at his wrists and ankles to bring circulation back. 

Harry goes to put the things away and Eggsy slips off the bed, padding up behind him. He slips his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. “What a fuckin’ tip of the iceberg.”


End file.
